The lighting was candles and small fire bowls. A large fountain occupied the centre of the patio with its cool water gently flowing into a pool filled with brightly coloured fish. We were seated at a table with white linens, gold flatware, thick ornate china and crystal goblets. Solely the warm and intimate light of eleven long white candles in a small candelabrum lighted it. And, though there was obviously room for 15 or 20 more tables, none were here save ours – no one else was here. We were left alone (again, without a word) and I started to cry. I don’t know why and neither of us cared. He came to me and held me while on one knee beside my chair until it passed. Soon the maitre’d returned with a bottle of champagne which he promptly poured into two tall crystal glasses while a waiter brought a heart-shaped box of chocolates with my name embossed in gold calligraphy on the top! Grinning like a kid at the look of wonder on my face, Dave returned to his chair as the first course of. Oh, they’d couched it in platitudes, but they’d still laughed as they assigned the Tulat boy – a commoner! – and his father to protect her. He couldn’t help but feel that he’d been judged and found seriously wanting.At the time, it had galled him. At the time, it had angered him. He’d swallowed it as he’d plotted, but he had been humiliated. Back then, he couldn’t understand what the two blacksmiths had that he did not. He couldn’t understand how Hawksley could appoint them and overlook someone with noble blood right in front of her.Now, he knew. In the vaults of his own mind, where he could be truthful with himself, he’d known even then. The blacksmiths were superior to him in every way. They were fearless. They were determined.And Yren Tulat was a far better warrior than him. He could admit that openly now, though he’d always known it in the truthful vault of his mind. In training, he’d never once gotten the better of Yren except when the boy had let him. He’d convinced himself.
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